


Sneaky Little Ghost Monument

by LoadsofCustardCreams



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/F, Love, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2018-12-08
Packaged: 2019-09-13 05:48:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16886796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoadsofCustardCreams/pseuds/LoadsofCustardCreams
Summary: The Doctor and the TARDIS haven't been seeing eye-to-eye recently due to one woman: Yasmin Khan. And the Doctor can't, for the life of her, figure out why.





	1. Man Up

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is my first Thasmin fic, so I hope it's okay! I really love this pairing. I am firmly on the Thasmin train- first class and everything. Just a heads up, this will be a two parter! Please let me know what you think!

 

The TARDIS was sulking. This was not an rare thing for her, as she tended to sulk, on average, twice a week. Sometimes it was because the Doctor had abandoned her for a little longer than the TARDIS would have liked — not on purpose, the Doctor would clarify, as the engines thunked and hissed at her. She tried to explain that it’s hard to gauge how long they’ll be when they land, but the TARDIS was having _none_ of it.

‘You’d think you’d be used to it,’ The Doctor told the TARDIS one night when it was just the two of them. ‘It’s been, what, centuries — _no,_ a _millennium_ now. No, wait. _Two_ millennia. Am I really that old?’

But some things never changed.

Sometimes it was due to her friends — or companions. It had taken the TARDIS a while to come around to Amy. It had taken her even longer to warm to Clara, and she’d had a guilty habit of throwing her out her bed in the middle of the night. The Doctor knew why that was; Clara and the TARDIS were very much alike, even if neither would admit it. It hadn’t taken her _too_ long to come around to Rose, and although she hadn’t been too fussed on Martha at the start, something drew the TARDIS to her. She didn’t even bat an eyelid at Donna.

As for these three, she seemed to like them. She hummed and buzzed when they were around, lively and talkative, just how the Doctor liked it. She also had a sneaky suspicion that the TARDIS was the reason it took the Doctor a few goes to drop Yaz, Graham and Ryan back off in Sheffield. The Doctor had fumed at her after that, muttering about how she’d looked like a _complete idiot_ — ‘Like I couldn’t fly my own bloody TARDIS!’ And that was when her team had come pouring back through the doors, confessing that they weren’t ready to give up the Doctor, and the world she could show them, just yet. And later the Doctor had whispered a soft, ‘ _thank you_ ,’ into the control panel when she was sure no-one else could hear her.

The TARDIS always seemed to know. She knew that the Doctor needed someone. Three someones, to be specific.

But now the TARDIS was sulking again. Ticking, thumping, and hissing. None of the soft, reassuring humming the Doctor was used to. She even didn’t do that strange noise that sounded slightly like a cat purring when the Doctor stroked her console. She was cold and unfeeling, and the Doctor equated this to her sitting in a corner, folding her arms, and refusing to talk to anyone.

‘Oh, _come on,_ ’ the Doctor complained when she couldn’t stand it anymore.

Her team had popped off to bed and the Doctor, bouncing with energy, couldn’t sleep. She’d already cleared out her wardrobe (and by clear out, she meant try everything on, and put it all back— she couldn’t believe she was once into _leather),_ and devoured fifty custard creams. A few hours later, she sat on the floor by the console, her head resting against the cool metal, her legs spread out like a triangle in front of her, wondering how long the others were going to sleep for— she had so much to show them, after all.  Her only company was the mopey silence of the TARDIS.

‘Can you _at least_ talk to me? It’s getting ridiculous now. I don’t even know what I’ve done. And I _know_ it’s me you’re angry with because you’re nice to the others _._ You even warmed Graham’s towels up for him. He told me about it the other morning. I got stone-cold towels. _And_ you turned my water off halfway through. What’s up with that? So what have _I_ done?’

Silence.

‘Alright, fine. I’ll talk to myself, then. I actually excel at that.’ She paused, just in case the TARDIS was going to change her mind. She didn’t. ‘I’m thinking of taking them back to the Victorian era. Haven’t done Victorians in a while. And everyone loves a bit of Victorians.’

More silence.

‘Emily Brontë was a _great_ Victorian. Very intense. Think she fancied me. Back, y’know, when I was a man.’

Then something crossed the Doctor’s mind. ‘Is it… because I’m a woman? Is that why?’

The TARDIS thunked. A scoff. _No._

‘No, no didn’t think so. That was stupid.’

She fell silent for a moment. She could not, for the life of her, put her finger on it. She thought she might have said something to upset her. This regeneration had a habit of saying things without thinking, even more so than the Scotsman, and she was still figuring that out. But she wasn’t _offensive,_ was she? Not to the people, and _ships,_ she cared about.

No, she couldn’t think what she had done. And it didn’t come to her until the next morning.

* * *

She’d managed to fall asleep against the console, lulled by the engines down below, and woke up the next day bright and alert. At least, she _thought_ it was the next morning; she couldn’t be sure. But she could hear the sound of water running, and a few footsteps in the distant corridors, and she knew the others were up. Or some of them, at least.

The Doctor hopped to her feet, her heart fluttering in her chest, her whole body alight with excitement. She pressed a few buttons, and pulled a few levers but was, once again, met with the silence. Not even a good morning. Hmph. Fine. The TARDIS could suit herself. She had a busy day ahead of her anyway. There was so much to do, so much to see. She could take them to the planet of _Noy,_ or _Thorp._ They’d be able to ride the jackinsaurs. There was nothing like a good jackinsaur flight to make you feel good.

‘Doctor?’ came a soft voice from behind her.

The Doctor was so busy thinking up places to go, and things to see, that she hadn’t even heard Yasmin come in. She whirled around. Yaz was stood in the doorway. She was already dressed, but must have showered this morning, as her hair was loose and wet, dripping water onto the floor. She squeezed at it with a towel. There was something incredibly fresh and clean about her that made the Doctor feel self conscious. She pressed her fingertips to her lips, just to make sure she hadn’t drooled in her sleep. She could probably do nothing about her hair, which she just _knew_ was sticking up in all directions. Who knew hair was such a hassle? She hadn’t had to worry about these things as a man; she’d just get up and go.

‘Yaz!’ the Doctor said. Her voice was thick with sleep. She swallowed. ‘What’s up? Is it morning already?’

‘I don’t… actually know.’ She gave a small laugh. ‘But I’m awake. And so is Graham. Ryan’s asleep though.’

The Doctor rolled her eyes, smiling. ‘Typical. Just like Ryan, that _._ Especially when there are so many places to see, and things to do.’ She hated the words as soon as they came out of her mouth. What was it about this regeneration that made her so… awkward? She hadn’t been this awkward, or clumsy with words, since she’d had a fondness for bowties and fezzes. Even then, she _knew_ she was cool. And now… she didn’t know what she was. Not when Yaz was around.

‘I guess the good thing about having a time machine is that it doesn’t matter when you go.’

‘Right you are, Yaz!’

There was a small silence. There was so much distance between them, with the Doctor clutching the control panel, and Yaz halfway across the console room, hovering in the doorway. She’d stopped squeezing her hair. She tucked it behind her ear, and there was something so shy and sweet about the gesture that the Doctor had a sudden mad urge to cross the room, and close the distance between them. She stayed put, though, her hand slick against the panel.

‘So, I was just wondering where you keep your tea? I haven’t had a cup since I left home, and I’m gasping. Turns out they don’t have tea on most alien planets.’ She smiled, shrugging her shoulders as if to say, _what can you do?_

‘Tea? Yes! Kitchen’s right down the corridor, last door on your left.’

‘Alright. Thanks.’

But she didn’t move. That was when the Doctor felt something slam into her back. She realised it was a lever the second after she’d fell forward with a yelp. ‘I can show you, if you’d like!’ Her voice was slightly breathless. She rubbed her back, where the lever had struck, directing a glare at the control panel of the TARDIS.

Yaz’s eyes lit up. She had lovely eyes, Yaz. Lovely and expressive. ‘Yes! Please!’

‘No need, Doc,’ came a voice behind them, and Graham shuffled through the doors. He was wearing a thick, navy dressing gown. In his hands, he held two mugs. He passed Yaz one, which she took in surprise. ‘You take sugar, right?’

‘Uh— yeah. Yeah, I do.’

‘Thought so.’ Then he turned to the Doctor. ‘Doc, your hair looks like a right mess. It looks like you’ve been dragged backwards through a hedge.’

Her hands immediately rushed up, and began to smooth through the strands. ‘You’re one to talk.’ His hair was ruffled and unyielding. Her voice was more irritable than she intended, so she softened her remark with a, ‘Ha! We can all be part of the bad hair club, what do you say? Everyone except Yaz, of course, who always has perfect hair.’ Her own eyes widened slightly. _Why did you say that?_ That filter— or lack thereof! The TARDIS made a noise that sounded, vaguely, as if she was laughing at her. ‘I love clubs, me. Did I ever tell you guys about the time I accidentally joined the Freemasons? Wasn’t _that_ a laugh.’

They both stared at her, for a second, as though she’d grown two heads, and the Doctor promptly shut up after that.

Yaz took a sip of her tea. ‘Graham, is that a new dressing gown?’

‘This?’ He looked down at his dressing gown. The Doctor could see his checkered burgundy pyjamas peeking out from underneath. ‘Nah, this was on my door this morning. Did you put it there, Doc?’

‘Me? Can’t say I did. Must have been the TARDIS. She looks out for those she cares about.’ The Doctor gave the console a comforting pat. The noise she made in response made the Doctor wince. _Alright, don’t bite my head off._

‘Oh, she must hate me, then,’ Yaz said.

The Doctor’s head snapped over to Yaz. ‘Why d’you say that?’

‘I keep getting woken up early. At least, I think it’s early because no-one else is awake. Apart from you. I mean, sometimes I can hear you. Talking to yourself in the console room.’ She looked down at her tea. Sipped it. ‘And it’s always freezing in my room. And my clothes keep going missing. Like, all the time. Like my jumpers and things. So I can’t even warm myself up with layers.’ She stared at her tea, as if she hadn’t intended to admit this.

‘My room’s always lovely and toasty,’ Graham said.

‘Yeah, well. She likes you, then.’ Yaz managed a small smile.

The Doctor frowned. ‘No… that’s not right. I’ll sort this out, Yaz, I promise. I’ll get to the bottom of this.’ She hoped her tone was threatening. But if it was, she couldn’t gauge the TARDIS’s reaction; the ship stayed silent, not even a hum out of her.

‘Anyway, I think I’ll take this back to my room,’ Yaz said, holding up her tea. ‘Should probably finish getting ready, anyway. Where are we going today?’

‘Wherever you want. Have a gossip between the three of you and get back to me. And if you’re stuck on ideas, just let me know. There’s _loads_ to see.’

‘Alright.’ Yaz smiled softly at her.

Graham cleared his throat. ‘Yeah, anyway, me too. I’ll see you in a bit, Doc. Gotta have a shower and make myself look beautiful.’ He grinned at her, before he disappeared out the console room again. Yaz followed.

As soon as they were gone, the Doctor rounded on TARDIS. She whirled back to her control panel, bracing both hands against it. ‘Alright, _you._ Out with it. It’s to do with Yaz, isn’t it?’

The TARDIS made the smallest noise.

‘So, what? What is it? You don’t like her? Is this another one of your tricks to get rid of my companions? Well, I’m _not_ having it. You got that? Yaz is part of my fam now, and we stick together, you got that? That means we’ll have enough of this… cold showers, and sulking, and cold rooms. Yeah?’

An exasperated _clunk_ , like a teenager.

The Doctor took that to mean they were in agreement.

* * *

But, as time went on, the Doctor realised that they were very much _not_ in agreement. Even though she took them where they wanted to go, the TARDIS continued to sulk and be moody. The engines huffed and steamed whenever Yaz entered the room, which the Doctor pretended not to notice.

She couldn’t understand it. Who wouldn’t like Yaz, man _or_ machine? She was so sweet, soft and kind. She had a way of looking at the Doctor that made her feel as if they were the only two people in the universe, with those wide, expressive eyes. The Doctor felt as if she could gaze into them forever. And she would, if it wasn’t for Ryan and Graham. But that wasn’t the point. The point was Yaz absolutely definitely didn’t deserve this kind of treatment.

Yaz often left her room in the morning, trembling, and blue in the lips. The Doctor did the best she could, wrapping her in blankets in the morning, pressing tea and custard creams into her trembling, icy hands. Whenever their fingers would touch, the Doctor would feel a jolt in her chest, which she was _sure_ was anger.

She tried everything. She tried reasoning with the TARDIS, but the TARDIS would just stay there, in that stony silence. She kicked the console a few times, to no avail. She tried transferring Yaz into different rooms — Rassilon knew she had enough of them. She even swapped Graham and Yaz over, but all that happened was that Graham emerged the next morning, fresh and warm from a good night’s sleep, while Yaz appeared shivering and blue again.

‘It’s alright. I’ll get to the bottom of this.’ The Doctor said again and again, as she rubbed warmth into Yaz’s shoulders.

But the final straw came when the Doctor heard a yelp from the other end of the TARDIS. She knew it was Yaz straight away and, without hesitation, she bolted out the room and down the corridor. ‘What have you done now?’ she hissed, as she followed to where the sound was coming from.

Yaz emerged from the bathroom, in a cloud of steam, clutching a big, white bath towel around her. She was shivering, trembling, as she threw a look over her shoulder at the bathroom.

‘Yaz?’ The Doctor asked, skidding to a stop in front of her. She grabbed Yaz’s bare shoulders, checking her for damage, making sure a hair wasn’t out of place. She looked as perfect as ever, if a bit cold and wet, water clinging to her skin, dripping onto the floor, next to her bare feet.

‘Doctor!’ she squeaked.

‘Are you okay?’ She gripped her arms tighter, looking into her face, for any sign of fear in those eyes of her. ‘I heard a yelp. What happened? Are you alright? Was it the TARDIS?’

‘I’m fine, I’m okay. The water went cold, that’s all.’

The Doctor frowned. ‘The water went cold?’

‘Yes.’

They stared at each other. It was at that moment that the Doctor became incredibly aware of the woman in front of her. She was practically naked — well, almost —  just had the fright of her life, and here the Doctor was, jumping out at her like a mad woman. She could smell the perfume from her shower clinging to her skin. She released her shoulders at once, as if she’d been stung, and jumped back. Yaz adjusted her towel, holding it more tightly to her. Her eyes were wide.

‘Oh! That is _it._ ’ She ran her hands through her hair. I’m sick of this. Wait here.’

She disappeared into the bathroom, into the clouds of steam, and drew back the shower curtain, switching the water on. Sure enough, the water was as icy as the waters of the Antarctic. The Doctor wrenched her hand out the stream of water, and whirled around, fully intending to stalk out the bathroom, but she caught sight of something on the mirror. Written in the condensation, in truly _appalling_ handwriting, was:

_Time to man up, my wonderful Doctor, and tell her how you feel._

The Doctor let out a small yelp, and quickly wiped away the writing with her sleeve, heart fluttering. ‘You sneaky little Ghost Monument.’

  



	2. Now Kiss

 

First came the denial.

‘This is ridiculous. I don't have  _ feelings  _ for Yasmin Khan. She's my friend. We're friends. She said as much when her mum asked if we were “seeing each other”. Apparently we're not.’ 

The Doctor yelped as sparks shot out of the two wires she was trying to connect. She’d removed a panel from the floor, and was currently flat on her stomach, peering down into the smokey engine rooms of the TARDIS. The TARDIS had been a little faulty recently, and the Doctor had been slow to fix her. She just assumed that the increase in sparks and smoke was another way of the TARDIS sulking, not a technical fault.

‘Which I'm fine with, by the way. That is a-OK. Exactly how I want it. Feelings and travelling do not mix. Do you remember Martha? I am  _ not  _ going down that road again. All of space and time for her to see, and she couldn't take her eyes off  _ me. _ ’

The TARDIS hissed. 

‘How is it different? I don't know what you're grumbling about. Not to mention, she probably doesn’t even feel anything for me in the first place. I think I’d be able to tell with Yaz.’ 

‘ _ I want more, _ ’ came Yaz’s voice, echoing around the console room. The Doctor jumped up from her spot on her stomach, back onto her knees, her hearts pounding. Yaz stood in front of her. But it wasn’t Yaz, not really. It was an echoey version of Yaz, flickering and crackling, electric blue lights shimmering in her cheeks. 

‘You  _ really _ shouldn’t play with holograms, y’know,’ the Doctor scolded, trying to ignore the way her hearts were fluttering in her chest at the sound of Yaz’s voice, or the swoop in her stomach when she’d thought, just for a second, that it had been her. ‘Especially while I’m doing this.’ She gestured to the engines below. ‘It’s draining you.’

_ ‘More of the universe,’   _ hologram Yaz said. The longer she stayed there, the more she became more solid.  _ Real _ . When she spoke again, her voice didn’t echo.  _ ‘More time with you. _ ’ 

The Doctor gave the hologram a tragic look. ‘No, don’t. I know what you’re doing. Don’t do that.’ 

_ ‘You’re, like, the best person I’ve ever met. _ ’

The Doctor jumped to her feet, leaving her sonic on the floor behind her. She crossed the room in a few strides, to where the hologram stood in front of her, almost as convincing as the real Yaz herself. ‘Now, this is just unfair,’ she murmured.

The Doctor studied that face in a way that she never usually had chance to do. She was so beautiful, Yaz. Her eyes reminded the Doctor of the deepest depths of space; unyielding, infinite and all consuming. Like they could hold a immeasurable amount of stars. The Doctor brought her hand up towards Yaz’s cheek.  _ Just one touch. _ But the second the Doctor’s fingertips ghosted over Yaz’s cheeks, her form flickered, crackling with electricity.

‘No, you’re not real.’ Her voice was soft. It was all she could manage. She turned away from the hologram Yaz, feeling her flicker and die behind her, and crossed the room to the hatch she’d created in the floor. ‘Enough of your tricks.’ 

For the first time since she’d regenerated, the Doctor worked in silence.

* * *

Despite the Doctor's best efforts to escape the TARDIS’ cryptic messages, she was unable. Whenever she took a shower, there was always something written on the bathroom mirror, sometimes a long speech about how it was time to move on and to take a leap of faith. Sometimes it was something as simple as,  _ You're not fooling me.  _ Or an,  _ I know you, Doctor. _ Each message, whatever it was, would see The Doctor rub furiously at the mirror until all evidence was erased, and then storm out the bathroom.

* * *

‘I don’t know why you’re so obsessed with this,’ she fumed, as she crossed the console room, holding a shopping bag packed to the brim of custard creams. ‘I don’t even know why you think  _ I _ would fall for  _ Yaz.  _ We wouldn’t be a team, then. Not to mention, I don’t make it a habit to fall for the people I travel with.’

And, before the Doctor could take another step, there, in front of her was herself. Or rather,  _ himself _ . Her tenth form, in all his flickering, blue glory. Her own voice, a voice she hadn’t heard in so long, echoed back to her.  _ ‘And I suppose, if it’s my last chance to say it, Rose Tyler… _ ’

‘Oh,  _ stop it, _ ’ she hissed, and walked right through the hologram, to the console of the TARDIS.

This went on for weeks. The Doctor was surprised the TARDIS could keep it up so long. She was like a teenager, usually so incredibly changeable from one second to the other. But this, she seemed to stubbornly hold onto with a vice-like grip.

The Doctor could feel the tension whenever Yaz entered the room. She was so glad that Yaz wouldn’t be able to understand the hiss and thrum of the engines. But she could probably feel the warm crackle of energy around them. 

Not to mention, the Doctor always seemed to turn into a bumbling idiot around Yaz. She often got her words mixed up, once asking her if she wanted tea in her sugar, and she could give it a spoon with that stir, if Yaz would like. 

‘I’m alright,’ Yaz had said, faintly amused.

The lights flickered around them; the TARDIS was laughing at her again. 

And that was when the Doctor knew she couldn’t hide it anymore. Not from the TARDIS, at least.

‘And what does it matter? How does it make any difference, you knowing, _ her _ knowing that I… think about her all the time. That she makes my hearts beat just that little bit faster whenever she's in the room, or that I get tongue tied and I don't know, exactly, what to say to her. What does it matter? She won't feel the same way.’ She swiped her hair behind her ear, shoulders sagging. Her voice turned softer. ‘And she shouldn't. She deserves someone she can have a life with. Someone she can grow old with. Someone who can wash the pots, or run her baths, or go out with her friends. Someone normal. Not silly old me. So, no. It doesn’t matter how I feel. I'm not going to tell her. And that's that.’ 

* * *

She had taken to avoiding Yaz at every opportunity. Team TARDIS, she could deal with. She didn't have to focus so much on Yaz when it was all of them, and she was busy being brilliant. But her eyes would always drift back to Yaz when she thought she wasn't looking. They would follow the curve of her jaw, her neck, trail over that full, sensual mouth — that mouth that had just been  _ made _ for kissing, if she could just—

‘Uh, Doc,’ Graham asked tentatively. 

The Doctor ripped her gaze away from Yaz and back to Graham, arranging her expression into something mildly intrigued. ‘What's up?’ 

‘I was just wondering—… Well, the other week you were banging on about having Elvis’ number. Don't get me wrong, I love chasing the monsters an’ all, but I was thinking we could do something more… normal, y'know. And I think Ryan would really appreciate seeing Elvis perform, y'know, when he was alive.’

‘Yeah,’ Ryan agreed. ‘That would be amazing. My nan was well into Elvis.’

The Doctor placed her hands on her hips and surveyed them. They were shy, she realised. Hesitant. It was like they didn't want to accept too much from her. Maybe they didn't want her to think they were using her for granted. Not that she could ever think that. How could she refuse them this, after everything they had done for her? 

She grinned. ‘Right team, guess we're going to see Elvis.’

* * *

Half an hour later, The Doctor was  _ still _ on the phone. ‘What do you mean, only two tickets? You still owe me lunch!”

'I know, little darling,’ Elvis said. ‘But I'm all sold out, I'm afraid. If you don't want them…’

‘No, I want them.’ 

After, when she'd hung up the phone with much more force than was necessary, there was silence in the TARDIS. The Doctor shoved her hands in her pockets, frowning. ‘I'm sorry, team. I let you down.’

‘Don't be silly,’ Ryan said. ‘You could never let us down.’

‘Hey, I have an idea,’ Yaz said. Everyone turned to her. The Doctor, enthusiastically, having an excuse to look at her. ‘Graham and Ryan can go. We can stay here. You've seen him before, right? And I'm happy as long as I get to choose our next trip.’

The Doctor looked at Yaz and thought about what that might mean. A few hours alone with Yaz. The thought electrified her, as if she was about to regenerate all over again. The thought terrified her; she didn't trust herself. She so badly wanted to hold her. Her fingertips trembled with the urge. And she didn’t know how much self-control this regeneration possessed. She hadn’t been tested like this yet. 

‘Yaz, are you sure?’ Ryan asked. 

She offered him a smile. ‘Yeah, I'm sure. But like I said, I’m picking where we go next.’ Then, she turned shyly to the Doctor. ‘If that’s okay?’ 

‘Okay? That’s more than okay. Yaz gets to pick where we go next? Brilliant. Amazing.’ She was babbling again. 

‘And you won’t get bored?’ Graham asked.

‘Bored? Me? Never! There’s only so much fun you can have. I don’t mind a quiet afternoon, actually, once in a while. Y’know, with tea and a biscuit.’ She turned to Yaz. ‘You can help me with a few things around the TARDIS, actually. Or, we could pop off and see a few places. We could go to—’ But suddenly, her brain became  _ very _ selective with all the places she could take Yaz. Venice— they could ride on the gondolas. Paris— the city of love. Or even worse, the planet of  _ Amare _ , which was full of weddings, and honeymoons and all things romance. ‘Anywhere! We could go anywhere. And pop back in time for tea.’

‘Great,’ Ryan said. ‘Great. Sounds great.’

‘Yeah, it does,’ Yaz said, her eyes flickering to the Doctor.

* * *

The Doctor dropped Graham and Ryan off in Las Vegas. They’d changed for the weather, and the Doctor had found a couple of pairs of sunglasses for them to wear.

‘But it’s pink,’ Graham had complained, as she thrust it into his hands.

‘And? Time Lords don’t have a concept of gender norms. Put ‘em on. You gotta protect your eyes.’ She waved them off with a warm, ‘See ya later!’ and turned back into the TARDIS, grinning. 

That was until she spotted Yaz, in the middle of the console room, watching her. The light seemed to hit her perfectly, like a waterfall of blues and reds, and the Doctor suspected it was the TARDIS’ doing. Yaz clasped her hands in front of her, almost as if she was nervous. But that was  _ ridiculous —  _ who could be nervous around this silly old Doctor? Then she remembered the Yaz hologram, and she wondered — no,  _ hoped _ — that was the TARDIS had implied was true.

She immediately scolded herself for the thought. Even if it was true, even if, by some miracle, Yaz felt a slither of what the Doctor had been feeling for her, than it didn’t matter. What the Doctor had said was true, too; Yaz deserved a normal life. It would be selfish of her to take that away from her. 

But… wasn’t that what she was doing? By whisking her away in the TARDIS? Of course, at the time, the Doctor didn’t know what Yaz would mean to her.

She put Yaz to work doing fruitless tasks around the TARDIS, that she pretended were actually really important. Like, holding her toolbox when the Doctor was knee deep in the engines, passing her various sonic screwdrivers and hammers when she needed them. The point was, if Yaz was holding the toolbox, then the Doctor wouldn’t succumb to the urge to try and hold Yaz. It was foolproof.

‘Small screwdriver,’ she said, holding her hand out. A brush of their fingers as Yaz dropped it into her hand. ‘Large screwdriver.’ She tried to ignore the tingle of her skin. ‘Custard cream.’  _ That one, _ she needed.

They remained like that, silent apart from the metallic sounds of the Doctor’s work. She was glad, for once, that the TARDIS was being silent. The last thing she needed was her scoffing and her laughter. 

‘Uh, Doctor?’ Yaz asked in the silence. The Doctor heard her shuffle. ‘Can I ask you a question?’

‘Always.’ 

There was a slight hesitation.

‘You said, back to Graham, that Time Lords don’t have any concept of gender norms.’

‘Did I say that?’ She struggled to remember saying one thing to the other these days. She frowned down at the screwdriver through her protective goggles. ‘Eh. It’s true.’

‘You said… Time Lord. You’ve never called yourself that before.’

The Doctor froze. Hadn’t she? She was fairly sure she had. But… maybe she hadn’t. She’d definitely called herself alien; she remembered that. 

‘And… and when I first met you, you said you were a white-haired scotsman. And only the other week, you said everything would still be easier if you were still a man.’ 

‘Did I?’ This brain of hers. She spoke faster than she thought, and she was still catching up with it all. She chucked the screwdriver back up onto the grate of the TARDIS, so she could connect two wires together. She needed to keep her hands busy. The wires hissed as she forced them together. ‘Well, I was. A bloke, I mean.’

‘Yeah, well, I figured that. But… how?’

The Doctor removed her goggles from her eyes up onto her head. She wiped her hands on her trousers. ‘I’m a Time Lord. Or… Lady now, I guess.’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘We kind of have this trick where, just as we’re about to die, we can regenerate. We can change. It’s really painful. Every cell in my body was dying, transforming, morphing into something else. Into this. Into me.’

There was a short silence.

‘Have you ever been a woman before?’

‘Nope. This is the first time.’ The Doctor stood up from where she was ducking, popping her head out of the hatch she’d made, looking right at Yaz. She hadn’t realised she’d sat down, cross legged on the floor, the box of tools resting neatly on her lap. ‘Does that bother you?’

She shook her head. ‘Nope.’

‘It doesn’t… creep you out?’

‘No.’ Without hesitation. 

They looked at each other. 

‘You’re kind of amazing. I wasn’t lying when I said you’re the best person I’ve ever met. You’re, like, so… I don’t know. I don’t know how to describe it. You’ve changed my life. Y’know, before you, I would have just been stuck sorting out parked cars and missing dogs but you’ve… given me something else. And I couldn’t have even imagined…’ She trailed off, looking up at the TARDIS, at all the lights pulsing and flickering. ‘You’re amazing.’

‘Oh, stop it, you. You’ll do nothing for my ego because, if I do say so myself, I  _ am _ brilliant.’ She hoped her words were light. She hoped they didn’t betray the sudden beating of her hearts, or the tingling she could feel throughout her body.  _ Yasmin Khan, you will be the death of me, _ she thought.  _ And you don’t even know it. _

‘And, like, you can just fly away on the TARDIS.’

‘Flying the TARDIS? Oh, that’s easy.’

‘It doesn’t  _ look  _ easy.’

‘No, it is. I can show you, if you like?’

Yaz laughed. ‘What?’

The Doctor braced her hands on the grate, and jumped up out of the hatch. ‘C’mon, I’ll show you.’ She grabbed Yaz’s hand, pulling her to her feet, and ran over to the control panel. A strange sense of giddiness was running through her veins. ‘Now, we’re gonna have to be careful. It’s impossible to predict how the TARDIS is gonna react to you flying her. So if you just…’ She took the hand she was holding and guided it towards the control panel. Then, she laid her hand softly against the cool metal. ‘Nice and gentle. Kinda like she’s a feral cat.’

Feral cat she was, the TARDIS hummed underneath Yaz’s touch.

‘What does that mean?’ Yaz whispered.

‘It means she likes you.’ She spoke softly. ‘Which means she’ll let you fly her. If you just…’ She moved Yaz’s hand, very gently, up and onto a lever. Keeping her hand there, the Doctor leaned over and pressed a few buttons.

They were silent. They were stood so close together that the Doctor could feel Yaz’s body heat, and the faint, perfumy scent of her shampoo. It was intoxicating, the smell of it. It was a scent that had been driving her insane her around the TARDIS, and it was only now that the Doctor had worked out what it was. She closed her eyes. Her hand was still on Yaz’s. 

‘Where do you want to go?’ she asked, softly, as a way to distract herself.

‘Anywhere.’ Yaz’s voice was just as soft. ‘Anywhere, as long as it’s with you.’

The Doctor swallowed.  _ Rassilon save me, _ she thought. All these biological urges and sensations were tipping her over the edge. How did anyone stand it? Yaz slipped her hand from underneath the Doctor’s, and turned swiftly around, so she was facing her, and the Doctor was hit with the full force of those intense, soulful eyes. 

‘I mean it,’ she murmured. ‘I don’t care where we go, as long as it’s with you.’

Ah. Soft realisation. The TARDIS had been right all along. About both of them. The Doctor let that hang between them for a moment, as she allowed the weight of Yaz’s words to sink in. 

‘Yaz, I’m old. I’m  _ really _ old. I haven’t... this hasn’t happened in years. Not with a friend. A human. Maybe even a century or two, even. You lose track after the first century.’

‘It’s about time then, isn’t it?’ Yaz placed her hands on her arms. 

The Doctor drew in a slow breath at the touch. ‘Yaz…’ she warned.

‘You’re the best person I’ve ever met. You’ve changed my life in  _ so _ many ways.’

‘Yaz…’ This was more like a plead.

‘I meant what I said. I want more. More of you. You are—’ 

The Doctor placed her finger against Yaz’s lips to stop her talking, and regretted the action almost immediately. It was that motion that directed her eyes down to her lips. Yaz didn’t look like she was breathing, and the Doctor could only take slow, calming breaths. All she could think about was Yaz in front of her, Yaz holding her, Yaz looking up at her with those  _ eyes. _ Her hearts were beating so hard she felt like she was about to regenerate. She slipped her finger slowly from Yaz’s lips. 

‘I thought I might have been imagining it,’ Yaz said, barely above a whisper. ‘I thought, maybe—’

The Doctor kissed her. And it was like galaxies exploding. She had forgotten what it was like to kiss — to  _ really _ kiss — someone she cared for. Not since River. It was slow and soft and drawn out. Yaz moved one hand from her arm, to rest, gently on the side of her neck. The Doctor placed her hands on Yaz’s side, holding her, stroking softly. It felt so  _ good _ to hold her. So human. 

It went on for some time like that, soft and tweet and tentative. And then Yaz kissed her harder, her hand sinking into the Doctor’s hair, pulling her closer. She didn’t realise the whimper was from her until after. They both stepped backwards, Yaz falling onto the control panel of the TARDIS, but neither seemed to care enough. It was just them, kissing, and right at that moment, all the universes in the world couldn’t amount to that feeling. 

They were so wrapped up in each other, they almost didn’t hear the creak. But the Doctor was so attuned to the TARDIS’ every noise, that she realised exactly what the creak of the door was, just as it opened. She ripped herself away from Yaz, mourning the loss of contact almost instantly, and turned to the door just in time to see Graham and Ryan come through. They were chatting.

‘— And I didn’t think he was gonna do Suspicious Minds,’ Ryan said, ‘But then he  _ did  _ and—’

‘Best concert ever!’ Graham said. ‘I’ll never beat it.’

‘I don’t know. I saw Dizzee Rascal back in January and he was—’

‘Not better than Elvis, surely?’

They grinned as they looked up at the Doctor. She didn’t know what to do with herself. Her hearts were still pounding furiously. She settled for combing her hand through her hair in the most natural way possible. ‘Hiya, team. Gang. Fam?’ Her voice was breathless. She could  _ feel  _ Yaz behind her. ‘Have a good time?’

‘Are you  _ kidding? _ ’ Ryan said. ‘That was  _ amazing. _ I still have goosebumps. Look.  _ Look. _ ’ He thrust his arm forward for the Doctor to inspect.

‘If you think that’s amazing, we’ll do Queen sometime. All of us, this time.’ She drew in a deep breath, trying to pull her voice back under control. Her body betrayed her. She rested her hands on her hips, but that felt unnatural. 

‘What did you two get up to? Here— catch.’ Graham asked, as he threw his sunglasses at the Doctor.

She dropped them, and had to duck down to retrieve them, her hands trembling.

‘Oh, y’know, this and that,’ Yaz said. Her voice sounded completely normal. ‘I helped fix some things around the TARDIS. And by helped, I mean, I held the tool box.’ 

The Doctor jumped back to her feet. ‘And you are a great toolbox holder,’ she said, without looking at her. She was afraid what she’d see. She was afraid that the urge to be close to her would overtake her. ‘Anyway, what’s next?’ She turned, and whirled around the console panel, avoiding the part where she’d kissed Yaz. ‘Where’s next? Anywhere you like. The whole universe, for your taking. Where should we go?’

‘I think we said it’s Yaz’s turn,’ Ryan said, folding his arms.

‘Oh! Yes _. _ Of course.’ The Doctor’s eyes reluctantly met Yaz’s across the other side on the control panel. 

She stared back, unflinching. ‘Anywhere.’ 

_ Anywhere, as long as I’m with you,  _ her face seemed to say. The Doctor drew in a long, deep breath. Yes, Yasmin Khan was definitely going to be the death of her. She pulled on a lever.

‘Anywhere, it is.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading this!! And thank you all for the love on the last one <3 I plan to write so many more Thasmin fics. I honestly can't get this ship out of my head. They are just so adorable!! What did you think?


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